| |
Anonymous translation
HOW long, O Lord, shall vengeance sleep, | |
| And impious pride defy thy rod? | |
| How long thy faithful servants weep, | |
| Scourged by the fierce barbaric host? | |
| Where, where, of thine almighty arm, O God, | 5 |
| Where is the ancient boast? | |
| While Tartar brands are drawn to steep | |
| Thy fairest plains in Christian gore, | |
| Why slumbers thy devouring wrath, | |
| Nor sweeps the offender from thy path? | 10 |
| And wilt thou hear thy sons deplore | |
| Thy temples rifled, shrines no more, | |
| Nor burst their galling chains asunder, | |
| And arm thee with avenging thunder? | |
| |
| See the black cloud on Austria lower, | 15 |
| Big with terror, death, and woe! | |
| Behold the wild barbarians pour | |
| In rushing torrents o’er the land! | |
| Lo! host on host, the infidel foe | |
| Sweep along the Danube’s strand, | 20 |
| And darkly serried spears the light of day o’erpower! | |
| There the innumerable swords, | |
| The banners of the East unite; | |
| All Asia girds her loins for fight: | |
| The Don’s barbaric lords, | 25 |
| Sarmatia’s haughty hordes, | |
| Warriors from Thrace, and many a swarthy file | |
| Banded on Syria’s plains or by the Nile. | |
| |
| Mark the tide of blood that flows | |
| Within Vienna’s proud imperial walls! | 30 |
| Beneath a thousand deadly blows, | |
| Dismayed, enfeebled, sunk, subdued, | |
| Austria’s queen of cities falls: | |
| Vain are her lofty ramparts to elude | |
| The fatal triumph of her foes; | 35 |
| Lo! her earth-fast battlements | |
| Quiver and shake; hark to the thrilling cry | |
| Of war, that rends the sky, | |
| The groans of death, the wild laments, | |
| The sobs of trembling innocents, | 40 |
| Of wildered matrons, pressing to their breast | |
| All which they feared for most and loved the best! | |
| |
| Thine everlasting hand | |
| Exalt, O Lord, that impious men may learn | |
| How frail their armor to withstand | 45 |
| Thy power, the power of God supreme! | |
| Let thy consuming vengeance burn | |
| The guilty nations with its beam! | |
| Bind them in slavery’s iron band; | |
| Or, as the scattered dust in summer flies, | 50 |
| Chased by the raging blast of heaven, | |
| Before thee be the Thracians driven! | |
| Let trophied columns by the Danube rise, | |
| And bear the inscription to the skies: | |
| “Warring against the Christian Jove in vain, | 55 |
| Here was the Ottoman Typhœus slain!” * * * * * | |
| If Destiny decree, | |
| If Fate’s eternal leaves declare, | |
| That Germany shall bend the knee | |
| Before a Turkish despot’s nod, | 60 |
| And Italy the Moslem yoke shall bear, | |
| I bow in meek humility, | |
| And kiss the holy rod. | |
| Conquer, if such thy will,— | |
| Conquer the Scythian, while he drains | 65 |
| The noblest blood from Europe’s veins, | |
| And Havoc drinks her fill: | |
| We yield thee trembling homage still; | |
| We rest in thy command secure; | |
| For thou alone art just and wise and pure. | 70 |
| |
| But shall I live to see the day, | |
| When Tartar ploughs Germanic soil divide, | |
| And Arab herdsmen fearless stray | |
| And watch their flocks along the Rhine, | |
| Where princely cities now o’erlook his tide? | 75 |
| The Danube’s towers no longer shine, | |
| For hostile flame has given them to decay: | |
| Shall devastation wider spread? | |
| Where the proud ramparts of Vienna swell, | |
| Shall solitary Echo dwell, | 80 |
| And human footsteps cease to tread? | |
| O God, avert the omen dread! | |
| If Heaven the sentence did record, | |
| O, let thy mercy blot the fatal word! | |
| |
| Hark to the votive hymn resounding | 85 |
| Through the temple’s cloistered aisles! | |
| See, the sacred shrine surrounding, | |
| Perfumed clouds of incense rise! | |
| The pontiff opes the stately piles | |
| Where many a buried treasure lies; | 90 |
| With liberal hand, rich, full, abounding, | |
| He pours abroad the gold of Rome. | |
| He summons every Christian king | |
| Against the Moslemim to bring | |
| Their forces leagued for Christendom: | 95 |
| The brave Teutonic nations come, | |
| And warlike Poles like thunderbolts descend, | |
| Moved by his voice their brethren to defend. | |
| |
| He stands upon the Esquiline, | |
| And lifts to heaven his holy arm, | 100 |
| Like Moses, clothed in power divine, | |
| While faith and hope his strength sustain. | |
| Merciful God, has prayer no charm | |
| Thy rage to soothe, thy love to gain? | |
| The pious king of Judah’s line | 105 |
| Beneath thine anger lowly bended, | |
| And thou didst give him added years; | |
| The Assyrian Nineveh shed tears | |
| Of humbled pride, when death impended, | |
| And thus the fatal curse forefended: | 110 |
| And wilt thou turn away thy face, | |
| When Heaven’s vicegerent seeks thy grace? | |
| |
| Sacred fury fires my breast, | |
| And fills my laboring soul. | |
| Ye who hold the lance in rest, | 115 |
| And gird you for the holy wars, | |
| On, on, like ocean waves to conquest roll, | |
| Christ and the Cross your leading star! | |
| Already he proclaims your prowess blest: | |
| Sound the loud trump of victory, | 120 |
| Rush to the combat, soldiers of the Cross! | |
| High let your banners triumphantly toss; | |
| For the heathen shall perish, and songs of the free | |
| Ring through the heavens in jubilee! | |
| Why delay ye? Buckle on the sword and targe, | 125 |
| And charge, victorious champions, charge! | |
| |
